


As Stubborn As Water

by AbsoluteNegation



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Community: yuletide_smut, Complete, Dom/sub Undertones, Hilarious Failure to Dominate, M/M, Sexual Aggression, Title Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsoluteNegation/pseuds/AbsoluteNegation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently Kenren was trying to force his reputation to live up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Stubborn As Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meicdon13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meicdon13/gifts).



The General’s door was remarkably unassuming, actually, for the sheer volume and intensity of ulcer-inducing potential that lay behind it. He’d thought for decades that Tenpou’s door, with its moderate avalanche risk, would be the worst of its kind, but that was before the General had swaggered his way into Goujun’s life, in close pursuit of a trail of damage claims and angry notes from outraged superiors. The file he’d received two days before Kenren’s arrival had been a full two inches thick, bursting with both papers and rage, and it had taken him several hours of increasingly bemused reading to make his way through all of it. He’d concluded, naturally, that at least half the accusations therein were fueled by imagination and long-cherished grudges, for the simple reason that anyone who was actually that much trouble would have been beaten to death by an angry mob several years ago.

A week in, he was beginning to seriously doubt his initial conclusion, as he was currently holding a lengthy scroll that contained a detailed bill for the extended bar brawl that had apparently sprouted during an unauthorised Excursion Down Below, in which the general, Tenpou and the first platoon had all been involved. (Gleefully, by all accounts - and he had several.) The main reason he hadn’t summoned Kenren to his own office was the fact that this followed immediately on the heels of saving the Field Marshal’s ass on the battlefield, which left Goujun feeling less inclined to publicly reprimand him. The other, which he wouldn’t admit to anyone else, was his desire to avoid looking like he’d lost control of Tenkai’s sole professional troublemaker in less than a week, even if it was true. He’d expected - well, not _better,_ but at least _less indiscreet_  this soon. Apparently a vain hope. He rapped on the door sharply rather than simply entering - the gods only knew what the man was up to in there, after all - only to be greeted with a distinctly annoyed “Yeah, what?” from within.

All right, then.  He pushed the door open with his free hand, glowering silently at the General’s back. “General.” The room was surprisingly neat, actually, he noted, while Kenren took entirely too long to reply to be polite. There was a couch against the wall, in a sufficiently advanced stage of ratty that Goujun could rest assured that he didn’t have another Acquisitionist on his hands. Tenpou was bad enough. The rest of the room was largely bare - a few books and scrolls, scattered on the bookshelf, and paperwork stacked tidily on the table. And Kenren still wasn’t quite done standing, and he hadn’t saluted yet, either. Goujun gave himself a moment to appreciate anew the self-control every single one of Kenren’s superiors must have had. “It's considered polite to salute your superiors.”

All that earned him was a wave that could, if one were upside down and moderately addled, be rounded up to a salute. “What can I do for you?” And then he paused, with almost loving attention to infuriating Goujun, before adding “Sir.”

Goujun studied him, carefully and deliberately. The man still hadn’t zipped his duster up properly, baring entirely too much of his torso to be decent, and he was standing with a sort of deliberately insolent grace that practically challenged Goujun to bring up that ridiculous pretense of a salute. He could feel that telltale tic starting near his mouth, and he clamped down on it, tossing the scroll at him. “Explain yourself, for a start.”

The scroll bounced on the table with an impressively solid thunking sound, but Kenren didn’t even flinch. “Self-defense. Sir.”

“Oh?” Goujun asked, very evenly.

He didn’t actually see any indication of it, but the very immobility of Kenren’s features spoke loudly of the grin he was fighting off. “I swung the _second_  punch. After that, it was kind of a blur. Sir.”

There was that pause again, pushing at Goujun, just as much as Kenren’s carefully considered posture was pushing at him, the tilt of his body and the steadiness of his gaze, challenging without being aggressive, nothing that Goujun could pinpoint as disrespectful, but which poked at his instincts nonetheless. “A blur,” he pointed out, desert-dry, “that clearly encompassed most of the village, judging by the number of people who claim to have been injured by you.”

Kenren nodded tightly, still doing an admirable job holding that grin back. “Fuzzy claim, all right.” And now he wasn’t meeting Goujun’s gaze at all, looking straight at the wall with those oddly pretty eyes of his, but the tightness of his mouth made an utter lie of any pretense towards deference he might possibly consider thinking of making.

“Do you have any idea what the consequences of your...exploits are?” Goujun demanded, stepping a little closer.

“A slightly sore jaw and a vivid memory of Field Marshal yakiniku?” Kenren ventured.

“You think you’re very funny, don’t you.”

“I feel someone should, sir.”

To his horror, he could feel his lips twitching at that. Damn the man for being genuinely funny; it disarmed him at the worst of times. “You do understand that the cost of repairing that inn and treating any injuries will be coming directly out of your salary, General?”

Kenren nodded. “I believe the line ends in about five months, sir.”

Despite his own best intentions, there was something morbidly fascinating about the general, really. Goujun had always been fairly sure that there was only so much trouble one could get into, even intentionally, but here he was, solid, clearly real, all five-foot-something of pretty kami, apparently hell-bent on breaking that record. There was something almost hypnotic about that level of gleefully masochistic impertinence. “...you're still not done paying for the last fight, are you?”

Kenren cleared his throat, clearly doing a little triage before replying. “No, sir.” The absence of that pause a second time in a row only served to underscore exactly how happily rude he’d been earlier, and did absolutely nothing to put Goujun’s hackles back down. Goujun stared at him silently, waiting for a further explanation, and Kenren cracked after a long moment, smirking a little and meeting his gaze (and it really was just irritation that sent that strange crackle of sensation down Goujun’s spine). “It's bad form not to return a gift.”

Goujun huffed a little, deciding not to address the smirk, or the way he was meeting his gaze, a tiny challenge in it. Each little gesture was a push, and while he’d been convinced at the initial meeting that Kenren was just too stupid to have realised what all those nuances of posture and gaze and gesture indicated, recent events on the battlefield - and that smug little smirk - were rapidly persuading him otherwise. The general knew damn well what he was doing, and how he was doing it, and that was a challenge to Goujun’s place in relation to him: a challenge that Goujun would not, _could_  not afford to ignore. “Well, you'll be in very good form for several months after this. I'll be taking the entire cost out of your salary, General.”

Kenren’s gaze returned to the door, just in time to stop Goujun from embarrassing himself by demanding Kenren treat him with respect or something equally mortifyingly obvious. “Why?” he asked, though the bored tone suggested that he was doing so entirely for Goujun’s benefit.

Goujun felt a brief stab of annoyance pierce even his kami-toughened facade. “Because this never happened before you, with your...” he gestured at Kenren, mostly irritated with himself for having brought the thing up at all instead of just garnishing Kenren’s wages as he usually did.

The Smirk was back, and piled heavily with Leer, too, now, pushing at Goujun, and that deliberate slouch of Kenren’s that very plausibly could be deference to Goujun’s lesser height, but which was definitely just Kenren not giving a fuck. “Thank you. Sir.”

_That pause was back._  And liberally slathered with innuendo, too, enough for Goujun to snap, irritated, “Would you haul your brain out of your pants for ten whole seconds?”

“Need more space?” Kenren shot back with impressive speed, leering openly and gleefully, now, uncomfortably close, his scent in Goujun’s mind, close enough to touch, close enough to...to beat to a pulp like the part of Goujun’s brain that had never really wrapped itself around his humanoid self kept insisting was a good idea, really.

“This is not the Eastern army, General.” It was taking an actual effort to restrain himself now, part of him watching that inviting mouth curl in such a filthy way, part of him wanting dearly to knock a few of his teeth out, and all of him demanding acknowledgement of dominance. “They might have overlooked your insolence for a while, but I will not.  And you _will_  address me properly.”

The room went very quiet as that statement fell into it, and he could almost see Kenren considering, his body shifting just a little, and Goujun knew he was going to push harder even before he replied, a world of filthy promises in a purred murmur. “Whatever you wish. … _Sir._ ” Somehow, that pause broke Goujun’s resolve where nothing else had, an animal growl in his throat as he gave in to impulse, punching him right in that smug, pretty mouth, nearly shaking with anger and the force needed to restrain it, rage and arousal in equal parts, tilting and tipping dangerously as Kenren grinned at him, all bright eyes and bloody mouth, that fighter’s body relaxing in a way that Goujun _knew_  in the back of his mind, practically demanding an answer, his voice still that same filthy purr, apparently unfazed by the growl rising in Goujun’s throat. “ _Second_  punches, Commander. What else have you got?”

Movement was, sometimes, simply a matter of impulse and provocation. He was almost surprised to find his hand wound in Kenren’s duster, yanking him close to bite down on his mouth, wanting mostly to _shut him up_ , broken skin under his teeth from his punch, salt and iron taste in his mouth and the general close and hot against his body, dizzied and disoriented from the suddenness of his own actions. Then Kenren was biting back at him, sudden and surprising, a hand curling in Goujun’s hair in a way that was simply too presumptuous to tolerate, but which sent a deep thrill down his traitor body anyway. Goujun shoved him back roughly with a hand tight around his throat. “Fucking insolent...” It was meant to be reproof, but it came out sounding more resigned than anything, even with the tightening of his hand around Kenren’s throat.

Kenren hissed, his head tilting back in a perfect show of obedience to Goujun’s command that his gaze rendered a gentle lie, still watching him steadily. “Not yet,” he pointed out, a little breathless from Goujun’s grip - or maybe from arousal - tugging at his hair gently, apparently to emphasise the point.

Not yet...not fucking Kenren yet, but the promise of it, the brief image of him bent over and spread open on that table sent a jolt of lust through the part of him that was all dragon, even now, and he batted Kenren’s hand away, watching him through narrowed eyes as he shoved him back a little. “Stop pushing me, General,” he said, but his voice was rough, just a little uneven, telling entirely too much.

Kenren tilted his head back, grinned at him, and the contrast of obedience and defiance there nearly made Goujun’s mind stutter to a halt, eerily balanced. “Or?” he asked simply.

“You seem in need of reminding that I'm your commander,” Goujun growled.

His grip had to be cutting Kenren’s breath off at least a little by now, but Kenren didn’t seem remotely bothered, just shifting his feet a little further apart, clasping his hands behind his back, apparent submission that was actually anything but, as he murmured, “I wouldn't dream of contradicting you.” A pause, _that_  pause, the one Goujun knew already, and Goujun was already annoyed before Kenren bestowed another apparently trademarked “Sir.” on him. Oh, and that was enough, whatever restraint Goujun might have seized upon dissolving in the sheer quantity of smug that Kenren packed into one syllable, and he shoved the general back against the table, biting down on his throat just below where he was holding it, skin perilously close to breaking under his teeth.  Kenren’s hands stayed put, pleasingly, holding on to the desk while Goujun bit and licked and ground against him, and even if it was only a show of submission, it certainly was a pretty one.

His mind was blurring with the heady scent of Kenren, arousal and adrenalin and just that tinge of something alcoholic, the taste of his skin and his blood on his mouth, and he wound his hand in Kenren’s hair, kissing him hard, Kenren responding easily, immediately, wrapping his arms around Goujun and spreading his legs to let him closer, fighting just for a second before giving in easily - so easily, Goujun knew, that it was deliberate, and no real victory. He pinned Kenren harder, pulling his head roughly to the side and dragging his teeth up his neck, over the mark from the bite he’d left earlier, rewarded with a little shudder that pleased him more than it should. Sharp teeth and biting nails, Kenren’s hand in his hair, pulling, giving him a retaliatory bite of his own, and Goujun snarled, raking his nails down Kenren’s chest as he yanked Kenren’s head away from him, infuriated with the presumption, but not as much as he was aroused by it. Tearing at Kenren’s belt, fighting with its buckle, wanting him naked before Goujun could be, needing that power differential, and perversely displeased when Kenren let him have it, extricated himself from his duster and contented himself with just unfastening Goujun’s cape in return.

Common sense screamed in the back of his brain that no, fucking the general was a bad, bad idea, the worst really, with how clever he’d turned out to be, but that body against his, Kenren’s little chuckle, the challenge that didn’t even need the effort of maintaining it, and Goujun was helpless; embarrassingly, irreversibly trapped. To his instincts, which were crying out to dominate, to bend the general over the table and fuck him into submission if he couldn’t order him into it, the tension was nearly overwhelming, leaving him trembling a little as he shoved at Kenren, turning him around and pushing him to the table with a hand to his back. Kenren bent easily, pressed cheek to wood, his (really quite amazing) ass to Goujun’s cock, and just kept grinning, as if he’d won - and maybe, Goujun was forced to admit privately, he had, spread across his table like Goujun wanted, open and trapped and still, _still_  confident. He rocked against Kenren hard, reaching to shove his pants down, stopping while they were halfway down his thighs as he remembered that of course he didn’t have lube. He didn’t have lube, naturally, because he wasn’t planning this, just another frustration to rack up on this entire encounter, snarling with irritation. There was always the possibility of just fucking him without, but even Goujun wasn’t that far gone, and wouldn’t have allowed himself to be no matter how annoying Kenren was.

Growing more annoying by the minute, as it turned out, because he was snickering, and in a way that clearly said he’d understood what Goujun’s problem was. “Back up,” Kenren said - no,  ordered - _ordered_  - and before Goujun could splutter outrage, he found himself backing up, watching bemusedly as Kenren miraculously unearthed a slim tube of lube from his desk drawer in less than three seconds, the raging pervert that he was. “Always be prepared, Commander,” he grinned, and Goujun really, really shouldn’t have found the grin more sexy than smack-worthy, but there it was. “As you were,” Kenren added, with the world’s snottiest grin.

Somewhat to his dismay, this annoyed him less than it should have.

“Don’t bother being nice,” Kenren said in a low voice as Goujun shoved his own pants down, taking yet another assertion of control from him, no matter that he’d intended to do just that anyway. Goujun snarled, biting down hard on the curve of Kenren’s neck as he gave in and slapped his ass (which got him a little giggle, damn the man), slicking his cock quickly.  His hand wound into Kenren’s hair as he pressed his cock against his entrance, pulling the general into a painful arch as he thrust into him hard.

Tight, slick heat around his cock, Kenren crying out, low and rough, fingers curled desperately against the table... Goujun fought back an intense wave of gratification, seeing the general under him, giving him just a few seconds before he started moving, hands tight enough to bruise on Kenren’s hips. “Fuck me,” Kenren breathed, and Goujun’s breath caught hard, the plea edging delicately towards an order, and the “ _Sir._ ” that followed tipped the balance. Goujun leaned over, biting at his neck hard, feeling skin break against his teeth, snarling a low sound of satisfaction as he fell into a deep, rough rhythm, biting at his back, his neck, anywhere he could reach, leaving an erratic pattern of reddening marks on the muscled expanse of his back, losing himself in this, maddening friction and the pleasure of Kenren clenching around his cock, the scent and feel of him.

Then pain in his scalp, sharp and sudden, Kenren’s hand in Goujun’s hair pulling hard until Goujun batted it away, pinned his wrist. Kenren struggled as Goujun pinned it, just enough to make him work to keep it trapped, his low, taunting “Going to have to do better than that, Commander” driving Goujun insane.

He retaliated hard, since that was apparently what Kenren both wanted and enjoyed, pinning Kenren’s wrist against the table, holding it there as he thrust into him with no thought of gentleness, his voice a low snarl as he replied, “Shut up and take it, General,” before dragging his teeth down Kenren’s back, feeling the jolt of lust that little pain sent through him with an equally vicious stab of satisfaction. Licked slowly up Kenren’s back, over the scratches his teeth left on his skin, fucking him hard, frantically, sinking into it entirely, barely aware of anything but the way Kenren responded, fierce and wanton.

The general was murmuring breathless instructions, _yes, fuck, more, harder, do it_ , the words sinking right past what was left of Goujun’s rational mind, and he obeyed without really thinking about it, biting at him, fucking him harder, deeper, time sliding and blurring, focused entirely on the sensations of this, the orgasm coiling tight and hot in his belly, shuddering with the force of it. Kenren’s hand was in his hair, Kenren bucking against him, Kenren arching and swearing as Goujun raked his nails down his back and over the bite marks, curling his hand around his wrist a little tighter as he slammed into him hard. He sank his teeth into the back of Kenren’s neck, holding him down in a purely animal fashion, angry and demanding as he gave in to his own pleasure, driving into Kenren hard and grinding,dimly aware of the general rocking back against him as he came with a deep shock of pleasure and a low, harsh sound muffled against skin, everything else lost in the roaring of his blood in his ears.

Goujun held there a long moment, hands still tight on Kenren’s wrist and hip, still moving against Kenren as he came down from his orgasm, somewhat aware the general hadn’t come, and fairly gratified by that little perpetuation of the power imbalance he’d craved. However deftly Kenren had subverted the rest of his intent, the ache of unfulfilled desire would more than make up for it. He pulled out of Kenren slowly, still panting for breath, waiting to see what he’d do with that, the fact that Goujun had taken his pleasure and left Kenren wanting, pulling up his pants quickly, wanting to be clothed before Kenren was.

All Kenren did, though, was straighten up, grabbing his pants and tugging them up over his hips, turning and facing Goujun with a tiny grin that clearly indicated that Goujun’s instincts were completely off about this, and Kenren was not, in fact, going to be properly deferential or cowed or submissive (a thing Goujun was rapidly beginning to suspect he couldn’t really be).

Which was when it sank in to Goujun that he’d really done this. He’d actually, voluntarily - spontaneously! - fucked the general.  Kenren, the fucking of whom was approximately the worst idea ever, on so many discrete levels that Goujun couldn’t even really wrap his brain around all of them. In fact, even considering how many levels there might be to it acted as a sort of spontaneous mindworm, relentlessly chewing up all his words, except, “That...I was not expecting it.”

Kenren grinned even wider, tucking his cock into his pants, still hard and apparently quite blase about it. “You don’t say.” He sat down on his desk, rifling through his duster, producing a pack of smokes. “S'all right, Commander, your secret impulses are safe with me.” The grin was practically a beam, now, floating to Goujun on a bed of cigarette smoke.

Goujun blinked at him, incredibly uncomfortable, unsure what to do, because really...he’d fucked Kenren. He hadn’t even known the man five days. And Kenren was currently reassuring him, it seemed, and even more bizarrely, he believed the reassurance. “Ah,” he said, intelligently, as baffled by his own faith as his actions. “Yes.” It didn’t seem much of an acknowledgment, particularly given how much trouble he’d be in if Kenren did decide to talk about it, so he added, a little helplessly, “good.” His pants were still undone. It seemed an oddly fitting coda to his enormous embarrassment over this.

Kenren sighed, apparently coming to a conclusion, a soft chuckle in his throat as he slid off the desk, curled an arm around Goujun’s neck, gave him a very pointed look and then kissed him, oddly gently. After a moment, he broke the kiss, looked Goujun over again, then nodded very decisively before releasing Goujun entirely. It left Goujun with the very distinct impression that Kenren had apparently arrived at some sort of conclusion, like they’d decided on something, which was very interesting, because it implied that there was something, _anything_  that was clear about this situation.  Goujun wanted dearly to correct this impression, and would have, if that wouldn’t have left him looking even more ridiculous. And now Kenren was grinning at him. No. Leering. Again. That _fucking_  leer. “Right,” he said, casting about for something, anything to say, doing his pants up quickly, but the only thing that turned up was the other thing he’d wanted to say, what feels like years ago, now. “I  was also about to mention, earlier, that your behaviour on the field with the Field Marshal was exemplary, and the only reason this incident will not go on your record.”

Of course, now it looked like the leniency was as much because of the sex, but Kenren’s quiet replying thanks revealed none of the smugness that would have indicated he thought so. “He’s a weird one, the Marshal, but I'll keep him.”

Goujun huffed, shaking his head, feeling a little wary, because the speed with which those two had fallen in with each other indicated that they were only going to egg each other on, increasing  their potential for trouble by several orders of magnitude, along with Goujun’s conviction that it was going to turn him prematurely bald. “Just keep him alive.” He picked up his cape, fastening it again, familiar weight and concealment, feeling a little more secure with it, walking over to the door. “Well. I'll expect a proper report on the events of that evening later, General. Try not to get in trouble.”

Kenren grinned hugely at him, bloodstained, aroused, utterly nonchalant about it all, giving him what had to be <i>the</i> most gloriously lax salute in the history of Tenkai, his voice back to that purr. “Until next time.”

And then, right as Goujun stepped through the doorway, the “ _Sir_.” trailed after him, a last little poke.

The thought wandered briefly through his mind that really, he could beat Kenren to death, and _nobody would blame him,_  but he'd seen where punching him would go already, and it would be far too embarrassing to have that happen (again), and he simply closed the door, shaking his head.

Next time, then.

 


End file.
